


Seducing his Flat Mate

by mysticaljayne



Series: Month of Love [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:17:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5951758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticaljayne/pseuds/mysticaljayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock doesn't get it, until suddenly he does.</p><p> </p><p>(Very fluffy. So fluffy, it may as well be a cloud.)</p><p>BBC Sherlock and Watson</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seducing his Flat Mate

Another bloody long day at the hospital just to come home to another bloody mess.

 

“Sherlock!” It may wake the neighbors, but bugger it all. This was the third time this week, ALONE, that he found what looked like the remains of some poor bloke’s eyes.

 

Finally, for what felt like an eternity, his flat mate, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes, leaves from his room wearing a ratty old robe and something that might be egg in his hair. “Yes, John?”

 

Barely controlling his anger, he jabs a finger at the mess on the table. “What is that?”

 

Sherlock just waves a hand, as if the mess is of no consequence. “An experiment.”

 

To him, it probably wasn’t a problem. “Table. Kitchen. We eat here.” Small, terse sentences. Hopefully the oblivious genius would get the idea and not have to have him explain.

 

Wide eyes and a shrug. Of course he wouldn’t get it. “You didn’t complain about the head.”

 

“Oh, bloody hell.” John snaps and starts to scrub the table. “You never understand.” The fool never does, and yes, the genius is a fool. He can pick apart someone’s entire life, and knows absolutely nothing about basic manners. Or, well, anything that doesn’t do with solving a case.

 

“Understand what, Watson? You seem upset.” John knows that to Sherlock he’s nothing more than a curiosity, but dang it all.

 

John ignores Sherlock, and keep scrubbing the table, even after it is clearly clean. “Course I’m bloody upset. The table is dirty.”

 

Sherlock keeps looking at him with those too observant eyes. “I believe that there is more to this than the table.”

 

“No kidding.” John bites out, and finally throws the rag on the table. “No good. It’ll never be clean enough.”

 

It’s as John is glaring at the table and the rag that Sherlock finally speaks back up. “I cannot fix something if you don’t tell me what is wrong.”

 

John picks up the now stinky rag and throws it in the sink. He’ll clean up the kitchen, later. “Nothing, Sherlock. Not everything can be fixed with your brain.” Even if his brain was something that John admired, there were other things that he would rather be doing with his flat mate.

 

Even if his flat mate didn’t feel the same way.

 

John shoved past his flat mate and marched on so that he could sit on the couch. It was his flat too, so if he wanted to sit on the couch that Sherlock normally sat on, he could. Ah, newspaper, and John went about reading it. Or, better description, staring at the paper while trying to avoid looking or answering his flat mate.

 

It took a moment, but Sherlock was racing into the room and jumping over the top of the recliner before roughly landing in it. “I cannot solve every problem, but I can solve most. Now, what is this great mystery, Watson?”

 

Why did everything have to be a mystery to the detective?? John sighed before roughly laying his head on the back of the couch and putting the paper over his head. Why couldn’t the man just leave him alone? “Nothing, Sherlock. Go back to your experiments.”

 

“Ah.” Now what has he revealed to the great detective? A misplaced sigh? A more disheveled than normal jumper? “Did Sarah break your courtship?”

 

“Courtship? Who says courtship anymore?” John jerked up and the paper fell from his face. He looked incredulous at the smirking face on Sherlock’s face.

 

Sherlock’s smirk turned into a full on smile. “So I am right?”

 

“Course you are.” John just put his head back. “Her name was Anne, not Sarah. Sarah was three months ago.” Not that that information would have been deemed important enough to be in Sherlock’s mind palace.

 

Sherlock’s smile wasn’t going away, at least based on the slight tightening of his voice, “Reason?”

 

“Ugh.” John Watson groaned out. “Does there have to be a reason?”

 

“Yes.” Something in Sherlock’s voice had him open his eyes and actually look at the brilliant detective that he shared space with. “There has to be a reason for not wanting to be with you. You are intelligent, a doctor, kind, and seem to have chemistry with women.”

 

John’s eyes narrowed, and threw the paper at his friend. “Bloody all… You don’t get it, do you, Sherlock?”

 

“Then tell me, Dr. Watson.” Sherlock leaned forward, his entire gaze focused on him.

 

Oh…what’s it to the fool? “Because they can’t compete with you.” John flung the rest of the newspaper at Sherlock while also marching out of the room to his bedroom. Let the genius chew on that piece of information.

 

His plan was to sleep.

 

Which he didn’t get, because while his moment of honesty only froze Sherlock for a split moment, the detective was leaping over the furniture and crowding him against the bedroom door that he hadn’t quite been able to open during the short time frame.

 

Sherlock was making himself appear larger by leaning over him and making a sort of cage with his arms on either side of John’s head. “You cannot say something like that and run away, John.”

 

“Look, I get it.” John ignored the proximity of the male that was becoming a fixture in his not so clean dreams. “You are married to your work. I…”

 

John was cut off by Sherlock’s lips pressing against his, and a tongue being pushed into his mouth. Sherlock pulled at John’s clothes, and John pulled Sherlock even closer to him so that they were flush against one another. Panting, Sherlock pulled back, and moved so that their foreheads were pressed together. “You are my partner. My friend. My… my mystery that I cannot fully solve, no matter how hard or which angle I observe it from.”

 

John let out a puff of air. “Why didn’t you say something?”

 

Their eyes meet, and lock. “I didn’t think there was anything to say.” Sherlock goes back to kissing the shorter male and leading the dance of love.


End file.
